My Personal Scary Stories
Prompted by Tom Cosentino’s “A Real Ghost Story”
Tom Cosentino’s recent post “A Real Ghost Story” is an enjoyable read! I was going to respond with a comment, but the more I thought about it, the more I had to say in response.
As I mentioned in a post I did around Halloween, I’m keenly interested in ghost stories. I find such stories to add a certain mystical, and dare I say, more magical quality to life. I also mentioned that I have never witnessed anything spooky myself. While I was being truthful about not witnessing anything remotely like Tom has, I have had experiences that felt scary or odd, but had no accompanying external phenomenon. I’ll tell about two of them below.
Early Morning in the Office
I also had an earie early morning experience at work, and I think the oddness of the situation itself explained my emotions. But before explaining it away, let me tell it. In the early 2000s, the three-story building that I worked at in Sharonville, Ohio had a structural failure on the middle floor that caused a corner of that floor to partially collapse onto the floor below. Instead of collapsing altogether, the corner of the floor shifted down several feet. If I remember correctly, it happened over a weekend, and I happened to be visiting the office for some reason, so I was one of the first to see what had happened. As such, I got to go in and poke around at the damage, and it looked a lot like an earthquake had hit the place, only there hadn’t been one. I haven’t a clue as to how it happened.
At any rate, we were all informed by management that we needed to evacuate the building for safety reasons and not come back. We were also told that we had to abandon our belongings in our offices. Now the idea of leaving everything in my office did not sit well with me in that I had a substantial number of work files that I needed to keep doing my job. But even more importantly, I had only just recently—say within a month—been given the best, most comfortable office chair I had ever had. The thought of losing the use of that chair put me into action! Early in the morning on a day of that very week, probably around 5 a.m., I went in, and boy did the place feel spooky. It was like something out of a Twilight Zone episode where all the people have suddenly vanished in the middle of a work day.
As I collected my belongings and files, I could not shake a feeling of being watched. And not by someone physical—there was no one about. It was dark, only the early morning light lit my surroundings and it was completely silent. My rising level of anxiety was making it difficult to focus on my task, so I hurried myself as best I could. I went back down in the elevator with a box of my files and belongings. As I loaded them into my car, I found myself not wanting to go back up for my main prize, my office chair. Besides that I had another few boxes that I was going to use the chair to roll them out on. I was in the light of day now and was not eager to go back into that strange place. But being in the light too, I began to question my feelings, and I decided that I would kick myself later if I did not go back for the chair. So I did. The feelings of anxiety came over me again as the doors to the elevator opened on the top floor, but I soldiered through it, loading up my chair with the remaining boxes and pushing it out of there and into the elevator. A palpable sense of relief came over me when the elevator doors closed and the car started down again.
The fact is that I know who I thought was watching me. Some time before that event, one of the programming staff of this software company I worked for had died. He was an odd one, and the oddest of several office characters we had about the place. Don (not his real name), I understood, came from a family whose religion was of an extremely conservative and devout Christian sect, that likely gave the Amish and Mennonites a run for their money in the field of aestheticism. They did not drink or smoke and frowned upon anything resembling fun, so I was told. Combined with that background, Don had all the charms often associated with those gifted with software engineering skills. This included a great level of general nerdiness and a social awkwardness boarding on autism.
Don, whom I suspect was shy as I child, was no wallflower when I knew him. Perhaps trying to overcome his own innate diffidence, he occasionally came to work in outlandish getups. One suit of clothing in particular was an almost glowing bright lemon yellow. And I don’t recall his outfit choices necessarily having anything to do with a particular holiday or event. He would parade around the office and stride into people’s offices to show himself off. Once when he burst in, I remember smiling awkwardly, not knowing what to do or say. (I’m a bit of an introvert myself.) My good office mate at the time (Chris) took on the job of conversing with him and complimented him wryly on his choice of clothing.
Don’s life took a tragic turn, however, when the guys at the office took him out drinking. As I was given to understand later, they had heard that he had never had a drink before and thought it would be fun to take him out for his first taste of it. And as it turned out, there was likely also a practical reason why his family abstained as a whole. Don quickly became an alcoholic. I am uncertain how long this went on, possibly for years, but it came to the point where it killed him. One day, after his coworkers grew concerned that he had not shown up for work in a few days, the police found him in his home. He had died days before of acute alcohol poisoning. I had heard about his alcoholism before he died, but I had no idea it had gotten that bad. Back then (and now for that matter), I knew plenty of “functional” alcoholics, and it never occurred to me that this could happen—besides to rock stars, that is. I did not do much socializing with the single guys; I was married with kids and quite preoccupied with all that. Still, I regretted that I had not taken more time to get to know him better.
This sad, tragic death certainly lingered in my own mind. So it could not help but suggest to me that Don’s spirit might be lingering in his old work place, a place of friendship where his talent for coding was greatly realized and admired, and unable to move on.
So, was it all in my mind, this anxiety about being watched? I cannot say for certain myself. Prior to the job I had at that time, I worked the night shift as a computer operator, and the only time I ever got spooked was while reading a Stephen King novel in the middle of my shift. Yet, the freaky circumstances of the building collapse alone very likely sent my mind into an imaginative, suggestable state. I never went back there. My employer used this event to get out of their lease and find us new accommodations. The building’s owners eventually repaired the damage, and it is still in use to this day.
Experiencing an Evil Presence
Tom also discussed his experience of evil while visiting Dachau, and I also wanted to add my own possible experience with an evil presence. My experience was of quite a different nature than Tom’s, which was a waking experience in a place where unimaginable and concentrated evil took place. So, I do not even begin to suggest that there is a comparison of Tom’s experience to mine—except a feeling of mine of sensing “evil.”
Mine came from a dream I had at home in the middle of the night. It was the most revolting, dreadful, hellish one I have ever had. It was so bad that I have not disclosed the details of it to anyone and will not ever, except to say that it seemed to me like something that would happen in hell. I woke from the revulsion of it, shaking. And it was then that I experienced something. I felt a demonic presence in the bedroom with me, nearby my bed. My revulsion quickly transformed to fearfulness, and I was too scared to open my eyes. In my mind, I pictured a sort of glowing blob of angry orange light. This went on for a time—perhaps a few minutes. But then the feeling slowly faded and I braved baring my eyes to the darkened surroundings of my bedroom. Nothing was there, but it felt to me like there was something in the air, something lingering that told of its former presence, like an unseen footprint or unscented smell.
All at once it hit me that the evil presence had been the one tormenting me with the horrible dream, and left as I awoke from its effects. I was truly thankful and comforted then for the gift of having a Guardian Angel who is with me at all times.
Again, this is another experience that could have come from within me alone. There was no external evidence to point to, no ghostly form that my waking eyes witnessed. Feelings are not unimportant. I truly felt fear and anxiety and a sense of evil (in the case of the dream), but I cannot verify the validity their source. I am certain it will remain a mystery to me as long as I live.
I Know a Guy Who Knows a Guy
As to Tom’s speculations about what it was he saw, I could only add my own feeble ones. In my posting on Ghosts, I linked to my favorite podcast, Jimmy Akin’s Mysterious World, in particular, two episodes that explore the various possibilities and explanations for ghostly phenomena, so I will not repeat it all here. What I wanted to add here was that I know of someone who is a trustworthy source for these kinds of things, who has in fact assisted in exorcisms. One of his compatriots in this work has the gift of knowing the state of departed souls. In fact, he often sees the souls of people in Purgatory who come to him to ask for prayers so they can move on from that place to Heaven. As Catholic teaching tells us, the souls in Purgatory can no longer pray on their own behalf. They need the prayers of the living to help them. This is why we have Masses said for our departed loved ones, in case they need this help to get to Heaven. We are told also that no prayer goes to waste, that God will use it to help another should our loved one no longer need it.
So that said, if ever you see something like a ghost, something that is not especially scary (beyond the experience itself of seeing a ghost, of course!), and is perhaps gray and sad, that might be a soul in Purgatory who needs your prayers. And, please pray for your departed loved ones and also for those forgotten souls who need our prayers.
I haven’t thought of Don in a long time. As I have been reminded by recalling this story, I’m praying for repose of his soul.